Polar Zone/Seven
❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅ Tears stream down your face I promise you I will learn from my mistakes — Coldplay, Fix You ---- LUCIFER EVERLY IS EXHAUSTED. It's obvious in every sluggish step she takes. It's the second sleepless night she's had, and the strain shows on every inch of her small face. More out of annoyance with her slowness than anything close to pity, I eventually stop and decide we've gone far enough. I don't offer myself up as the first one to speak, which means several moments pass by in silence as she tries to quell her labored breathing. Moons of training have conditioned me to never let a second slip by without using it. "Use breaks in conversation to assess your enemy," Greer has always told me. But there isn't much of an enemy to assess. Everly doesn't look ready to hurt anyone--not that I'd be worried at all if she was. Or, I wouldn't be worried much. I glance down at the chewed-up end of my tail and scowl darkly. Funny, how quickly she alternates between light and dark, between being quietly broken to loudly breaking (other cats' tails). As there isn't much else for me to do, I study her physique. She is small, yes, but her build speaks of litheness and agility. Her fur is a soft nut brown color, striped tabby with bands of gold and honey. I don't like tabbies; I've always thought that muted pelt colors--white and grays and black--were better. Anything brighter annoys me, especially against the backdrop of Thorn Mountain. "You said you would explain. So explain," Everly says finally. I glance at her face and do a double-take. She has efficiently and completely wiped all traces of weariness from her expression, slipping on a mask of calm that is only countered by her eyes, burning like two bright jewels. I am still bewildered by her request. Why does she want to know why Greer "killed" Shadowstar? Of what significance is that to her? "Okay. So... I'm guessing Greer killing Shadowstar was a Collection," I begin. Her ears prick in interest. "Yes. That word was thrown around a lot. He didn't want her to Collect from his Clan, because ForestClan only has three warriors left, and the one she wanted to Collect was his son's mentor." "Treeflight. She is their oldest warrior," I say, nodding, unsurprised. "I know a Collection sounds like a tribute of sorts, but it's really more in the Clan's benefit than ours. And it's not very often that Greer calls a Collection." "But what is it?" She's not stupid. I see the realization of the truth gathering in her gaze, even as she tries to force it down. "Thorn Mountain can only support a certain population of cats," I say. "The Snow Guard's responsibility is to make sure the Triad lives on, which means we have to make cuts when necessary." "What happens to them?" says Everly. "We couldn't do it on the mountain; it's too close. They're taken down to the bottom, by the valley woods. It's quite painless. Greer has special flowerets, they numb everything. The cats don't even realize..." I trail off. Everly's skin has taken on a greenish tinge under her fur, and she looks like she's about to be sick. "The valley woods?" she whispers. "That's where I lived... You brought them down there and... and..." For the first time in my life, I feel myself step outside of myself and see that my words could be perceived as... heartless. Not just a lack of emotions, but a blatant flaunting of cruelty. A brief moment of unusual confusion blurs my thoughts: am I speaking of a necessary policy, or am I speaking of death? Of murder, even? Collections have been in place for as long as Greer has, and maybe even before her. I struggle to reconcile the normalcy of them with the stark horror shining out of Everly's eyes. "It's merciful. Not that I care about mercy, but it is. We take the oldest cats, the ones who would be broken by another winter up here-" "But if there's no older cats," says Everly. She sounds like she's about to be sick. "Then what? You take the next best thing, don't you? You take a leader." "One of their lives," I correct. "Each leader is granted nine lives when they assume leadership." "I don't care if they have a hundred lives!" shrieks Everly half-hysterically. "It's sick. Why does she still need to do the Collection if they have no cats to give up? It makes no sense!" "She needs to be firm. She can't pardon Clans constantly. It's not an easy decision, but none of the choices you make when you have power are easy." A long silence stretches between us. Everly gets to her paws. "I wish," she says abruptly, "that I was still a kit, and that I never knew monsters existed in the world." "Where are you going? We had a deal--you're going to help me figure out-" "You're ''a monster. If you ever rise to power, this mountain is doomed. Stay away from me," spits Everly, and then she's gone. Cecily wakes me the next morning. "C'mon," she says. "Greer wants us to go hunting." I look up at Greer's daughter and frown. "Why?" I say sullenly. Rolling her eyes, Cecily says, "D'you think I'm chuffed to hear it either? Let's go. There's a lot of work to do today, and Greer's busy with dividing up hunting patrols in the Clans. We'd do well to stay out of her way." It's a good point. I shake off the traces of sleep that cling to me, and we trot out into the crisp, clear morning air. Of all the cats at the peak--excepting Greer, of course--I have probably spent the most time alone with Cecily. It's no secret why; Greer hopes that by throwing us together, we will someday have kits. To which I have no real reaction at all. I don't want kits, but if I fathered them, they wouldn't be my problem. Raising them would fall to Cecily, and I wouldn't have to acknowledge their legitimacy at all. As for Cecily herself, she is elegant and appealing, a portrayal of what Greer could've been, had she not been born a savage killer. But there is coldness in Cecily too--I see it in the moments she isn't smiling her charming smile or batting her eyes. Something dark swims underneath the surface of those lagoon-green eyes, and I wonder if it will ever rise up and take hold of her like it has completely possessed her mother. For now, I don't worry too much about her. Cecily is the least of the plans her mother has for me, I know. In the meantime, I am grateful that Greer's daughter is, at the very least, a graceful hunter and intelligent conversationalist. If she was a troll, I would've lost patience with Greer's pointless matchmaking a long time ago. Really, I think Cecily might be the only thing Greer has ever known how to care about on a deeper level than personal gain or power. Why else would she do something as uncharacteristically sentimental as picking her daughter out as my future mate? Stupidity--though not as stupid as the rest of the cats on the mountain, who choose mates of their own accord and pay the price for the absurdity of love. Cecily is quiet as we make our way down the mountainside for our hunt, which is for the best. My thoughts are unusually dark today. Unbidden, my mind replays last night, Everly calling me a monster, the repulsed look on her face when she learned what Collection was. I try to take savage delight in the irony of what she said: that if I ever rose to power, the mountain would be doomed. I want to laugh and say, ''Well, Greer's training me to do exactly that, so that's that. But it gives me no pleasure. Instead, I feel angrier. I want to take Everly and shake her till she wipes that look of righteous indignation off her face. What gives her the right, the freedom, to waste her time worrying about other cats' deaths and other cats' probelms? It is such a mark of her privilege that she has the gall to do that, to march, homeless and family-less, into a different society and begin questioning our morality. Her parents may have been killed by wolves, but at least they raised her. She had them in her life long enough for them to ingrain that stupid foundation of morality she so stubbornly clings to, even after having everything else uprooted. I am struck by the unnerving thought that if I lost everything--if Greer was no longer there to hone my talents and tell me what to do--I would have nothing to cling to. Who am I? Perhaps all I am is what Greer has raised me to be: Thorn Mountain's darkest star. Uproot Thorn Mountain, and I collapse into a black hole in the fabric of the universe, a nothing. "Lucifer!" Cecily's tail lashes across my vision and jolts me from my thoughts. "That was the fattest mouse I've seen in a long time, and you all but stepped on it and still didn't catch it!" My mind shakes off the heavy vines of thought I'd been toying with and tries to focus on Cecily's face. "Sorry," I say without thinking. "And now you're apologizing? Okay, what's going on with you? Are you Lucifer's nonevil twin or something?" I glare at her. "We're supposed to be hunting. You'll scare off all the prey if you keep talking." "What's going on?" she continues. "You've been acting strange the past two days. Does this have something to do with what happened with the wolves? Are you-" She hesitates. I'm guessing she'd been about to ask if I was okay. But that's a strange question to ask someone like me; by normal standards, I'm never okay. Now more than ever. Try as I might, I can't get the image of the dying white she-cat from the past out of my head. Why did the boreas lux--for I've guessed that that's what it is Greer's hiding in her den--take us there, of all places and times? If she isn't my mother, it makes no sense. If she is, it still doesn't make much sense. That little white kit can't ''have been me. I was never like that, never open and vulnerable to sadness. That's why Greer took me in in the first place. I have to sneak back into Greer's done. I would have preferred to do it with Everly; I can't shake the feeling that she is now tied into this whole mess, and that something will go wrong if I try anything without her. But she's given me no choice, storming off like she did last night. If it were any other cat, I just might've lost my temper and killed them already. No one has ever crossed me or gone back on a promise. But with Everly, I hold back the tiniest bit. She's already gotten on all of my nerves, and she's still breathing. If she's survived this far, I figure that if she's meant to die, it's not by my claws. "Cecily, do you happen to know what your mother's plans are for the day?" Looking mildly surprised at the change of subject, Cecily says, "She's going to be busy with the Clan leaders all day, and supervising the amount of prey hunting patrols bring back in. She's put Ruta in charge of making sure the Guard keeps watch. Why?" "No reason." I shrug, trying to conceal my elation. "Just... I was wondering if she's going to be intruding on my training today." "She'll probably check on you. Hey, make sure you eat today, okay?" Cecily adds. I snort. "What is with Greer's obsession with making sure I eat? She's so overprotective." "You know why. Special diet, strenghtening herbs. You've got to keep in peak condition," says Cecily dismissively. "She just told me to pass the message onto you." I sigh. "You know, I think I'm gonna head back. Gonna train all day." She gives me a tentative smile. "Okay. I'll see you later. And Lucifer?" "What?" "Don't stress out about things that don't matter. Someday, Greer's vision for this mountain will be fulfilled. Work towards that. Nothing else matters." "I'm fine," I say curtly. "I'm not stressed out." Cecily gives me a blinding smile. "I'm glad to hear it." She leans up and, without warning, touches her nose to my cheek. "I'm going to go hunt; I'll see you around." Baffled, I stare after her as she makes her way down the mountain. I've never had anyone who could qualify as a friend in my life, but Cecily has always been... a constant. She's always maintained her distance, though; we talked on hunts and during training sessions that Greer "suggested" we pair up for, but our conversations never grew more intimate than banter and tips. I think neither of us wanted to give Greer the idea that her attempt at getting the two of us together was working. Now, though, I thought I saw the veil of haughty indifference drop from Cecily's green eyes for the briefest moments. She can't actually care for me. What was that about? Was it a mark of friendship? I've wasted enough time dwelling on it. Pushing it out of my mind, I turn and run back up mountain. Almost all the Clan cats are standing outside the tunnels. Greer stands with Moonstar and Blackstar, critically eyeing the warriors as she decides how to divide the patrols. Shadowstar stands some distance apart, looking pale and unsteady on his paws. Miko stands beside him, holding strenghtening herbs in his jaws and muttering advice to the leader out of the corner of his mouth. I glance around and spot Everly standing at the mouth of the cave, watching Shadowstar with a look of disbelief on her face. As I pass her, I say, "I told you." Her face goes cold when she sees me. It actually takes effort for me not to recoil. I think she's not going to say anything, but she falls into step with me as I enter the cavern. "Where are you going?" she asks. "Everyone's out there--aren't you supposed to be on guard or something?" "That's just for the common cats. Greer wouldn't waste my time with that." I try to sneer, but even Everly doesn't seem convinced. I drop the act and growl, "I want to be left alone." When she doesn't leave, I say, "Aren't you the one who told me to leave you alone? Why are you following me now?" "You're going back to Greer's den." I don't respond, but pick up my pace. Everly hesitates in the doorway when we reach Greer's quarters. "What if she catches us?" I don't listen. I approach the hollow tree stump and look down at the shimmering ''boreas lux. The silvery material spins faster, as if it senses my presence. Flashes of light appear inside. The northern lights, as beautiful and entrancing as ever. I feel an unfamiliar fogginess fall over my mind. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Everly hasn't moved. "I don't want to come." "Fine," I snarl, and I dunk my face into the boreas lux. Wind rushes over me, and I scent the sharp pine that I smelled last time. My paws lift off the ground, and I am eclipsed in silver, dancing pinks and blues. I fall into the landing, sprawling on a cavern floor. Even though I'm insubstantial and invisible in this realm, my legs still feel bruised. I gingerly pick myself up and glance around. My stomach clenches. Last time, I was transported to a time and place I had never seen before--or at least, if I had seen it as a kit, I didn't remember it. This time, I know exactly where I am and what I'm about to witness. It's a memory I've suppressed for a long time, one of many hidden in the eaves of my mind, but it springs forth from its shackles and overpowers my long-held barriers. There is a small white kit standing at one end of the cavern. As I look at the younger version of myself, I realize that, undoubtedly, the kit I saw sobbing over the dead white she-cat was me. Smaller than this vision of myself--it looks like a moon has passed, at least--but other than that, identical. Identical, except that those vulnerable, emotional blue eyes have changed. I have become something different. The familiar emptiness has begun to creep into my gaze; it's a strange sight on a kit so young. A voice comes from the opposite side of the cavern, and I watch myself flinch and cower as Greer steps inside. At her heels is a small bundle of grayish-silver fur. It's Cecily when she was little, all short legs and enormous eyes, looking like a fluffy owl next to her elegant, regal mother. "Hi Lucifer," she squeaks when she sees the young me, but falls silent at her mother's glare. "Have you been practicing, Lucifer?" Greer asks. "Yes," the kit version of myself squeaks defiantly. I look closely at myself and see faint scars criss-crossing my face. Places where jagged blades of ice have pierced my skin repeatedly. I'' have'' been practicing. But it's not enough. I know what's coming, and I feel a heavy rock settle in my stomach. I don't want to watch this. Greer looks down at Cecily. Across the cavern, I know that the kit version of myself can't hear her, but I can now. "Watch this," she says. "Someday you will have to keep him on his path, and you need to know how to control him." Cecily nods, looking petrified, and sits down, curling her short, bushy tail around her tiny body. Greer approaches me. I look up at her, and on the outside, I look fearless. There is snow and ice in the corner of the cave. We start with the basic procedures: I submerge myself in ice and snow and count quietly to myself. When Greer pulls me out and begins combat training, I keep silent. Even though I know she's going easy on me because of my age (or her idea of "going easy"), I watch myself fall repeatedly, my tiny body slamming on the stone ground. After five tumbles, I hear myself start counting. Quietly, at first. Then at a piercing scream. Greer becomes angry. She sidesteps one of my charges and shoves me from behind. My face slams into the cavern wall. Blood shoots out of my nose and mouth, and I sprawl on the floor. Cecily shrieks. Greer stands over the small white body on the ground. "Practice more. You cannot have a weakness, Lucifer. You have eliminated love. Now you must eliminate pain." She strides out of the room, beckoning Cecily. Before Cecily goes, the little white kit raises his head. "Cecily, please," he says, his voice thick and muffled by the blood pouring down his face. "I'm sorry, Lucifer," little Cecily mews. She looks torn apart, but she's not crying. She knows her mother too well to let a tear escape her now. "There's nothing I can do. Do better next time." And she leaves too. The cavern is silent. Though I know he can't see me, I approach the kit version of myself. I try to say, "Count. Eliminate the pain." But the words stick in my throat. I feel bile rise in my throat. I have never felt like this--or at least, not in a long time. Suddenly, I regret the decision to return. If seeing my mother's death cut me open, seeing this flashback has widened the wound. Footsteps sound outside the cavern. I raise my head with a frown. On the floor, the kit version of myself has fallen unconscious, which means I've never seen this part of my life before. Greer reenters the cavern. She holds a mouthful of dark purple leaves in her jaws. She crushes them, and then tips my head back, scowling as my blood gets on her paws. She forces the crushed purple leaves down my mouth, and then leaves once more. I stare after her. What just happened? What were those leaves? Did they help heal me? I comb my memory and try to remember what happened after this. I remember waking up incredibly groggy on the cavern floor... looking around... feeling so muted. Like Greer attacking me had been a bad dream, like it was from some faraway land of darkness... I don't remember feeling any of the horror that I feel now, watching what happened to my kit-self. Did Greer drug me? Are those deep violet leaves the reason for the coldness developing in my eyes? Did she use them to slowly desensitize me to violence and emotion? "Wake up," I whisper, and I reach out to touch the little white kit on the floor. My paw goes right through him, of course, and I clench my jaw bitterly. Then something solid touches my shoulder. I jump and turn, for some reason expecting to see little Cecily or Greer, though no one from the past can see me. It's Everly. I can see by the shimmering pull at the edges of our outline that she too is insubstantial in this realm--but she is real for me. "Time to go back," she says. Or in our case, to go forward. As soon as we touch, the wind picks up. Silver light begins to eclipse us. I cast one last glance at the kit on the floor. "Good luck," I whisper. "I'll see you someday." And then Everly and I are back in Greer's den. I lie on my back and feel something horrible and empty open inside me--but it's different from the normal vacancy, the normal pit where I always thought normal cats had something warm inside them. This is empty, but it is painful. It aches, like a hole torn into the fabric of my soul. It's sorrow. What is happening to me? Category:Polar Zone